


Portkeys and Philosophy

by violetclarity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Academia, Airplanes, Albus and Scorpius go to Muggle uni, Alternate Universe - College/University, Falling In Love, Family Issues, Getting Together, Gift Fic, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Scorpius Malfoy in the Muggle World, Squib Albus Severus Potter, Squibs, Vignettes, discussion of magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 00:23:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17498117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetclarity/pseuds/violetclarity
Summary: Portkeys and Philosophy (an academic year in the life of two scholars) // Scorpius wasn’t expecting to see Harry Potter’s youngest son, the one who was supposed to be in his year at Hogwarts but never showed up, on his first day of Muggle uni. That turns out to be the least interesting thing about his year.





	Portkeys and Philosophy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aibidil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aibidil/gifts).



> This is a belated birthday gift for the wonderful **aibidil**. It was inspired by various HCs and conversations about Albus and Scorpius going to Muggle university – except I sent them to the US, because I don’t know anything about higher education in the UK. My original idea got perhaps a little out of hand, but I think I have reigned it in suitably; the end result is something different for me but that I hope you will enjoy.
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful **tdcat** for beta-reading, and to the lovely **restlessandordinary** for helping with title/summary and creating a lovely graphic (find it here).
> 
> *Samwell University is the creation of Ngozi Ukazu for her webcomic _OMG Check Please!_ , I’m just borrowing the name because I needed a fictional college.
> 
> To aib, a very happy belated birthday! I’m grateful to have gotten to know you this year, and for all of your insights on writing and life. I hope 2019 brings you an abundance of good things, because you certainly deserve them!

****

**

AUGUST

**

****

Scorpius felt good about his first day of Muggle university.

He’d only had one class so far. But it was one of the Muggle clases, the part of his program about which he was most worried – but also most excited. He was doing a joint Muggle and wizarding Anthropology degree at Samwell, and while he was beside himself at the opportunity to finally live alongside Muggles, putting into practice everything he’d spent the last two years studying, he also knew that private study at Hogwarts and then at the UK’s only wizarding uni hadn’t truly prepared him for what he would spend the next three years doing: passing among Muggles while he completed his Anthropology degree at an American university.

No.

At an American _college._

That he had survived his first class without giving away the fact that he’d grown up in a six hundred-year-old manor and was carrying a wand in his rucksack would have been enough, but Scorpius had exceeded even his own wildest expectations and made a _friend._

Eliza had slid into the desk next to his two minutes before the hour – Scorpius himself had been there at quarter til – taken one look at him, and asked “So, are you a transfer student?”

While Scorpius blanched, wondering if his cover had already been blown, she explained. “Anthro’s a small enough department that I know everyone, and this class has a strict pre-req so you can’t be a freshman.” She grinned at him. “So you’re a transfer, right?” She nodded, pleased with herself. “I’m Eliza.”

Eliza had kept up a running commentary until the professor swept into the room and started passing out syllabi, and even then she didn’t completely stop talking until they were onto the second page.

When it was Scorpius’s turn to introduce himself, he could tell that the others in the class were intrigued by his accent. His suspicions were confirmed when after class was dismissed, the first thing Eliza did was turn to him, chin propped on her hand and an interested expression on her face.

“You’re British,” she told him.

“I am.”

“And your name is _Scorpius._ ”

Scorpius winced. “My parents were really into Astronomy?”

Eliza snorted. “One of my other friends is British and has a weird name too,” she said. “Do you have a nickname or anything?”

He shook his head. The thought of Scorpius’s parents using a nickname was laughable. 

Scorpius rushed to pack his rucksack while Eliza did the same, tossing her books and binders into her bag without looking as she continued to chatter.

“Do you want to come to the dining hall with me? I’m meeting some friends for lunch. Their classes got out earlier than mine so they’ll probably already be there.” She pulled out her mobile and swiped at the screen a few times with a dexterity and familiarity that Scorpius would probably never have with the week-old phone sitting in the front pocket of his bag. “Yep, Al and Tanya are already there,” she confirmed. “Have you been to the dining hall yet?”

Scorpius had been during his tour of the campus before he decided to enroll in the program, and then again during orientation week when he ventured one day for breakfast, but he’d found it so overwhelming that he’d left without eating anything.

“No,” he lied.

Eliza gave him a quick and dirty tour of the dining hall as they waited in line for pasta. “Don’t get the alfredo sauce,” she warned him under her breath. “It looks good in the pan, but as soon as it cools down it congeals.”

She led him through the drinks and silverware station as well, Scorpius following her strawberry-blonde head as she pushed through the crowds of students. It all made him feel vaguely claustrophobic, but he reminded himself that this was why he was here: to meet Muggles and make friends with people his age, the type of friends he’d never really had at Hogwarts. He was determined not to let this chance go to waste.

They reached their table, and Eliza plopped her tray down, slinging her rucksack over the back of her chair as Scorpius followed suit. She’d sat down opposite a tall girl with purple-streaked braids, and Scorpius took the one remaining seat.

“Scorpius, this is Tanya, and this is Al,” Eliza introduced, and then the boy opposite him raised his head and met Scorpius’s eyes, and Scorpius realised that coming to Muggle university had been an absolute, horrid mistake.

Albus Severus Potter was supposed to be in Scorpius’s year at Hogwarts.

It had been all anyone could talk about when they were getting ready for school. Niles Parkinson-Zabini and Elinor Nott had speculated almost as much about what Albus’s house would be as their own. The topic made the front page of the _Prophet,_ twice, and Scorpius’s dad had scowled every time it was mentioned, while his mother had simply shaken her head. “They ought to leave the poor boy in peace,” was her opinion, and Scorpius, full of worries about Hogwarts in which Albus Potter was only the tip of the iceberg, agreed with her.

And then they’d lined up to be sorted, and Albus Potter was nowhere to be seen.

Maybe he was sick, they speculated. Maybe his family was on holiday. But James Potter was still there, sitting at the Gryffindor table and refusing to answer any questions.

Something was clearly very wrong, but no one would have been able to tell you exactly what. Rumours flourished – that the Potters had sent Albus to Durmstrang, that he was a sickly child who couldn’t leave the house, that he’d died years ago under mysterious circumstances that had been kept hushed up by the papers. No one ever found a solid answer, and eventually it seemed that everyone had forgotten about the middle Potter child altogether.

Scorpius had never expected to find the answer to the question of Albus Potter’s whereabouts in Massachusetts, when Eliza’s friend Al lifted his head and Scorpius was staring into those famous green eyes.

“You’re Albus Potter,” he blurted, and Al glared at him.

Eliza looked back and forth between them, confusion clear on her face. “Do you two...know each other?” she asked. “I didn’t want to assume all British people know each other, you know–”

Al cut her off with a glare. “Our dads went to school together,” he said, looking towards Scorpius. “We met once, years ago.” The message in Al’s eyes was clear: _don’t you dare say anything._

Scorpius looked down at his pasta and tried to ignore the way Albus was glaring at him for the rest of the meal.

He tried to make a fast escape, finishing his food first and getting up to leave, but was thwarted by Albus jumping to his feet, cheerfully offering to show him where to put his dishes. As soon as they were out of view of the others, Al dragged him into an alcove, leaning in towards him and glaring.

“Listen,” he said. “I don’t know why you’re here or what you think you know about me, but you _cannot_ say anything about my family to Eliza and Tanya. They don’t know anything about magic or wizards, and they can’t find out. Alright?”

Dumbly, Scorpius nodded. “I’m here doing a dual Muggle and wizarding degree in Anthropology,” he said, then realised that was not the answer Albus cared about, and gulped. “I won’t say anything to them,” he said. “I promise.”

Albus’s glare cooled from burning to merely smoldering. He blew his hair out of his face, still a picture of grumpiness, and Scorpius was abruptly reminded of the two months in fifth year he’d spent having wet dreams about James Sirius Potter, the movement was so reminiscent. He prayed Albus didn’t notice his blush.

“Good,” Albus said, and left him in the alcove as he went back to his friends.

****

**

SEPTEMBER

**

****

As soon as he arrived at the library, Scorpius knew that he’d made a fatal error in not listening more carefully the previous day when Eliza had invited him to work on their project. He’d been buzzing with excitement that she’d asked him to be her partner – he’d expected Al to have directed Eliza to stay away from him, and had already mentally reclassified her from _potential friend_ to _classmate/acquaintance_ – and after he gave her his mobile number (“You have to memorise it, Scorpius,” had been one of the tips the Hogwarts Muggle Studies professor had given him. “Every Muggle teenager has had their mobile since they were twelve.”) he may have zoned out a little bit. He felt a bit pathetic, clinging to a friendship that Eliza may not even be interested in, but he had to take what he could get; none of the other Muggle students had said more than a few words to him, and the students in his wizarding classes were already firmly entrenched in their social groups.

Scorpius successfully found Eliza at a corner table on the second floor, where she’d texted him she would be, but she wasn’t alone – also crowded around the table were Albus Potter, Tanya, and another person Scorpius didn’t recognise, who had a buzzcut and was wearing a jumper that looked too hot for the still-summery weather.

Albus glared when Scorpius arrived, but Eliza smiled and waved him over.

“Scorpius!” she whisper-shouted. “I’m sorry, I was going to text you, but I figured you were already on your way – I forgot I have a meeting with Williams at seven-fifteen. I’ll have to go in a few minutes, but we can find another time to work on the project?”

“Of course,” Scorpius said. They spent the next few minutes comparing schedules and blocking off two more times to meet, before Eliza had to gather her things and leave, and Scorpius was left alone at the table with Albus Potter, a girl he barely knew, and a complete stranger.

Would it be too weird if he left after only being here ten minutes? He could always find another place in the library to work…

His worry must have been clear on his face, because Albus looked up, his expression one of resigned surliness – although that could have been a result of his schoolwork, not Scorpius’s presence, he mused.

“You can stay and work here if you want,” he said. “As long as you’re quiet.”

Hours later, Scorpius looked up from his laptop to see Albus packing his rucksack. He hadn’t realised they were the only two left at the table.

Albus glanced at him, those green eyes, so much like his dad’s, still bright even under the harsh fluorescents.

“The library’s closing soon,” he said. “You might want to pack up.”

Albus stood and watched as Scorpius carefully saved his documents and powered down his computer, before sliding it into its case and then into the special padded pocket in his rucksack.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.”

Scorpius looked up, surprised. “Do what?”

“Turn off your laptop every time. You can close it and it’ll go to sleep.”

Scorpius didn’t know what that meant, but he nodded anyway. “Oh. Good to know, thanks.”

Albus laughed. “Sleep mode. It’s like it’s off, not using as much power, but all your documents and whatever will still be up when you open it the next time. Saves you time.” His expression did something strange. “No Muggle teenager powers down their computer every time they finish using it.”

Scorpius had been hoping any strange things he did could be passed off because he was British, rather than because he was a wizard, but Albus’s presence here put a damper on that plan.

“I didn’t know that,” he said. He was done packing his things, and Albus seemed to have been waiting for him, because he walked now towards the stairwell. Scorpius followed, noticing that the library was pretty much abandoned. He glanced at his watch – past one-thirty. “This is my first computer,” he confessed to Albus under his breath as they started down the stairs. He wasn’t sure why Albus was suddenly being nice to him instead of glaring like he wanted to hit him with an AK, but he wasn’t going to complain about it.

Albus snorted. “I figured. You type like you’re waiting for it to explode.”

Scorpius looked down, embarrassed. “It’s hard to get used to,” he said. “You certainly seem to have a better handle on it, though.”

Albus rolled his eyes. “I should hope I do, after five years,” he said, and that was – odd.

“Five years?” Scorpius asked. They were outside the library, now. It was dark, and because there was no one else around, he slid his wand from his sleeve holster into his hand and cast a murmured _Lumos._

That strange, indecipherable expression came across Albus’s face once again as he looked at Scorpius’s wand.

“Aren’t you worried about the Statue?” he asked.

“It could be a mobile from far away,” Scorpius said. “Unless you’re going to tell on me.” He’d meant it as a joke, now that they were finally talking, but Albus’s scowl only deepened. Scorpius should have taken the hint and stopped, but he’d always been too curious for his own good, and he couldn’t help the next words that came out of his mouth. “What did you mean, when you said you’d been doing it for five years?”

“I went to Muggle high school in the States too,” Albus said, face twisting into a grin at the shocked expression on Scorpius’s face. “What, didn’t you know Harry Potter’s middle child is a Squib?”

****

**

OCTOBER

**

****

Albus hadn’t brought it up again, and neither had Scorpius.

It had been one of the rumours, of course, when Albus Potter hadn’t shown up for the Hogwarts Express – what if he’s not magic? – but not one that anyone thought was plausible. It wasn’t as dramatic as imagining that he’d had some terrible accident that had been covered up, and no one believed it anyways – how could _Harry Potter_ have a child who wasn’t magic? Harry Potter had more power in his left hand than most wizards had in their entire bodies – even Scorpius’s dad had to admit that – and Ginny Potter was no magical slouch besides. James had inherited all of his parents’ Quidditch talent and Lily all of their defensive and dueling abilities. There was no way that Albus hadn’t inherited _anything._

Except that, apparently, there was. Because Albus – Al, Scorpius had to remind himself, everyone at Samwell only called him Al, and Al hated it when anyone used his full name – Al was a Squib. A fact that he’d spat at Scorpius, as though expecting him to already know, but a fact that was also clearly a closely guarded secret. Al had spent the first week after telling Scorpius darting nervous glances at him every time they were together, as though Scorpius was going to climb onto the table and announce to the entire library that Al Potter couldn’t do magic.

Not that it would have made much of an impact, anyway, as most of the students were Muggles for whom that fact was par for the course.

Now that Al seemed to have accepted that Scorpius was not going to spill his secret to the world, Scorpius would daresay that they were becoming...friends. Or something like it. He’d been accepted into the group, at least – he still studied in the library with Eliza even though they’d turned in their project at the beginning of the month, and joined them all for lunch with increasing regularity. Last weekend he’d been invited to a movie night at Eliza, Tanya, and Albus’s dorm.

Al no longer glared at him, but they hadn’t had a one-on-one conversation about anything more serious than their homework assignments since that night outside the library. Scorpius had hoped he might parlay the film – with its truly hilarious depiction of vampires, _sparkling,_ as if – into another conversation, but Al had been preoccupied all night.

He hadn’t expected the opportunity for conversation to present itself while shopping for Halloween costumes.

Scorpius plucked at a neon boa, dislodging a few lime green feathers as he dropped it onto the shelf. “This is horrific,” he said, fingering the hot pink fishnet tights that were displayed next to the boas. They seemed like they’d be really uncomfortable. “This isn’t how Halloween should be celebrated at _all._ ”

From a few steps down the aisle, Albus shook his head. He was trying on various hats, examining his reflection in a cloudy mirror as he did so. “You’re at an American college, Scorpius,” he said. “When in Rome, etcetera, etcetera.”

“Why can’t we carve pumpkins,” Scorpius grumbled. “That’s a classic Halloween activity. At Hogwarts, there would be dozens in the Great Hall on Halloween morning…”

He trailed off. Albus’s face had taken on that strange expression, the pinched one that looked angry and maybe sad – the expression Scorpius was coming to associate with any time he talked about magic.

“You should be more careful about mentioning Hogwarts around here,” was all Albus said, switching out the black tri-corn he’d been wearing for a rainbow stovepipe. “I think expecting the others to believe that’s the name of a British Muggle school would be pushing it a bit too far.”

As if to prove his point, at that moment, Tanya appeared at the end of the aisle, a pair of gossamer fairy wings looped over one arm. “Al!” she cried. “Won’t these be perfect for–” and then, as he turned and she caught sight of him, she burst into laughter. “Oh my god, that _hat!_ ”

Al put on a comically confused expression. “Do you not like it?” he asked with an exaggerated pout.

“I love it,” Tanya said earnestly, coming to join him and pulling a matching hat off the shelf. She put it on and looped an arm around Albus’s neck, turning them to face Scorpius.

“Scorpius! What do you think?” she asked, tilting their heads together. The hats were truly awful, and Scorpius couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s certainly a choice,” he said, feeling gratified when Tanya giggled.

“We should get these for Pride,” she said, taking her hat off and examining it. “Not sure I’d want to wear felt to the parade, though.” She hung it up.

Al took his off and tucked it under his arm, which sent Tanya off on another peal of laughter. “Al! Are you actually buying that?”

“You said we had to get Halloween costumes,” he argued. “You should be glad I’m taking the initiative to pick my own this year.”

Scorpius edged closer, sensing a story behind that comment, but neither of them elaborated, Tanya just snorting and rolling her eyes.

“What are you going to be with that hat, then?” she asked, arms crossed.

“A gay disaster,” Albus deadpanned.

Tanya’s laughter was dulled behind the thumping of Scorpius’s heart, which he could now hear echoing in his head.

_What?_

****

**

NOVEMBER

**

****

Scorpius had been planning on going home for Samwell’s Thanksgiving break – it was only three days of missed classes – but the other students would be gone as well, so Scorpius’s absence wouldn’t be as noticeable as if he took an International Portkey home for the weekend. Then he found out that Albus was staying at school for the break.

“Why aren’t you going home?” he’d asked, when Al had mentioned how much macaroni and cheese he intended to eat while he was alone in his dorm, and Al had shrugged.

“It’s not a long enough break for how long the flight is,” he’d said, and Scorpius had stared at him, trying to bore his question into him with his eyes – _you could take a Portkey, why don’t you take a Portkey_ – but Al either didn’t notice or was ignoring him, because he didn’t say anything.

“You can hang out with Scorpius!” Tanya had said, smiling at them. “At least you won’t be alone like last year.” And Al had looked at Scorpius from the corner of his eye, and smiled a bit, and Scorpius had Floo’ed his dad that night to tell him he wouldn’t be coming home after all.

His dad had been disappointed – Scorpius had been too; he really did miss his family – but Scorpius reminded him that he’d be home in a month anyway and said he had a lot of coursework to complete, which was true. Taking three classes and a private study took up a lot of his time, especially since he still wasn’t very proficient with the Muggle research tools he was required to use for two of his classes.

He could have easily told Tanya and Eliza that he already had plans for the holiday. He could have still gone home and gotten his work done in the comfort of his room at the Manor – at least the work that didn’t require his laptop. But Scorpius wanted to stay with Al and keep him company. Even though Al hadn’t said he had been lonely last year, Scorpius couldn’t imagine that it had been fun being at school alone for five days.

And maybe he had started to fancy Al, a little bit, and wanted to spend more time with him.

Scorpius hadn’t really had feelings for anyone at Hogwarts. Oh, there were a few boys he’d thought were handsome, who made his stomach flutter when he watched them from across the room. But none of them had been people he actually knew or was friends with. His interest never went deeper than the surface level of finding them attractive and always quickly waned.

Al, however, was someone Scorpius knew. It wasn’t just that he was fit – which he was, well fit, but Scorpius had known that for a while, hadn’t he? – but also that he was funny, and a kind friend to Eliza, always listening to her rant, even when things were obviously her fault. Scorpius found all of Albus’s idiosyncrasies cute these days – he’d really had to question himself when he’d described Albus’s explanation of a philosophy paper topic as _fascinating_ – and he was worried it was showing on his face.

That didn’t stop him from inviting Al to his flat for a Thanksgiving meal, though.

“We can try to do it American Thanksgiving style,” Scorpius had said, after he’d let Al in and hung up his coat, and they were both standing in his kitchen – pretty crowded when there were two people. “I got turkey and stuffing mix and this weird cranberry jelly in a can.” He frowned at his cabinet – that so-called cranberry sauce was quite disconcerting. “But I also have pasta and sauce and broccoli if you want to do something simpler.”

Relief washed over Al’s face. “Pasta and veg sounds good, if that’s alright with you. I’m not really one for holidays.”

Scorpius started the water and the sauce, and was about to cast a chopping charm on the broccoli when he turned and saw that Al had already fetched a knife and started cutting it. Sensing that an offer to do it with magic would not be welcome, Scorpius leaned against the counter instead. He and Al spent plenty of time together these days, but little of it alone, and Scorpius didn’t want to say anything weird; he wanted them to have a good conversation.

“Why aren’t you going home for the hols? You could still take a Portkey.”

Well, so much for that.

Albus’s shoulders tightened, but he continued chopping. “I never go home for breaks.”

Scorpius’s eyebrows rose. “Never?”

“Well, in high school I did; I had to. But not since I started college. I got a job on campus last summer, and they let me live in the dorms. They let you stay over Christmas, too.”

Scorpius’s stomach twisted. “You didn’t go home for Christmas?”

“No.” Albus wouldn’t meet Scorpius’s eyes. “I try to avoid England.”

“Why? Don’t you miss your family?”

Albus shrugged, a jerky, aborted motion. “I guess. But I like being here better. I like being weird British Al who’s majoring in philosophy, not Harry Potter’s Squib son – and _can you believe_ Harry and Ginny Potter had a son who’s a Squib?”

Scorpius flushed, remembering his own thought process when he’d first learned about Albus.

“And the rest of my family, I can tell they feel awkward too,” Albus continued. “With Rosie, it’s like, a spectre of who I should have been.” It took Scorpius a moment to realise that Al was talking about Rose Granger-Weasley, who was his cousin, obviously. “We would have been in the same year at Hogwarts, and she’s brilliant, of course. But I don’t like to make them all feel bad about doing magic and everything in front of me. They’re always weird about it.” He caught sight of Scorpius’s expression, pinched and concerned, and shook his head.

“It’s not like I’m estranged from them or anything,” he rushed to correct. “We write and talk on the phone. I text James and Lily all the time, now that they aren’t at Hogwarts. It’s easier when I’m not there.”

Scorpius frowned, reading between the lines of what Albus was saying. “You don’t like magic.”

“It’s not a matter of liking it or not,” Albus said. “Magic isn’t supposed to exist in my world.”

****

**

DECEMBER

**

****

Scorpius and Al’s relationship had, sometime in the last few weeks, become downright _flirty_ – and Scorpius wasn’t the only one who had noticed it.

“So, you and Al,” Tanya said, jostling Scorpius with her shoulder as she slid into the chair beside him. “Spill.”

He could feel his face go bright red. “There’s nothing to spill,” he told her, but even to himself it sounded like a lie.

“Bullshit. You like him.” Tanya raised her eyebrows. “I think he likes you too.”

Scorpius squirmed. “It’s– if you’re thinking– there’s nothing to tell,” he said, honestly. “I like him, but I don’t– I mean, we haven’t– nothing’s happened. We haven’t talked about it.”

It wasn’t that Scorpius didn’t want to talk about it, but he wasn’t sure about the protocol. Couples at Hogwarts had gone on dates to Hogsmeade and held hands in the corridors, but this wasn’t Hogwarts, this was college. Scorpius wasn’t sure what the university equivalent of asking Al to Hogsmeade with him would be, or what their friends would think if they started dating – although it seemed Tanya, at least, would be enthusiastic.

“Why not?” she asked now, serious expression at odds with the huge bite she had just taken out of her cheeseburger. “You’ll never know how he feels if you don’t say something.”

“I know,” Scorpius said. He did know. He’d given that same piece of advice to multiple people over the years, despairing when they never followed it. “But what if he doesn’t feel the same way about me?”

Tanya shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. “Then you move on,” she said. “But at least that way, you’ll know.”

It was good, sound advice. Advice that Scorpius was going to follow, he promised himself, the next time he was alone with Al – which happened to be another late night walk home from the library.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have put off writing that essay until three days before it was due,” he was saying to Al, heart tight and full at the flushed, pleased expression on Albus’s face.

“Maybe you should learn how to actually use Google,” Albus said, and Scorpius laughed, his breath a warm puff in the winter air. It was cold, but Merlin, Scorpius barely noticed when he was with Albus.

“Maybe you should go on a date with me,” he said, teasing, and then realised what had come out of his mouth, and _fuck,_ that was not how he meant to say that, but Albus had stopped walking, was staring at Scorpius with an expression of contained shock.

“Scorpius?”

“Would you like to go out with me,” Scorpius blurted, wetting his lips with a nervous tongue. “I like you. A lot. I wasn’t going to ask you like that,” he clarified, twisting his hands into fists inside his coat pockets. “But I had been planning to ask you. If you wanted to go out with me.”

Albus’s expression was hard to read, like it had been the first month Scorpius had known him, when he was certain the other boy hated him and hadn’t even known Al liked boys. He wondered if it was hard to read for everyone – if Al’s siblings knew what was going on his head when he was closed off, if Tanya did, and Eliza – or if Scorpius didn’t know Al as well as he thought he did.

As well as he _wanted_ to.

“I don’t think that would be a very good idea,” Al said, and through the disappointment, the sinking feeling in his gut, Scorpius noticed that Al wasn’t saying he didn’t like Scorpius.

“Why,” Scorpius asked, throat dry, “why do you say that?”

Albus scowled. “I just don’t think we should go out,” he said. “I mean – I like you, Scorpius, I like being friends with you, but I’m not– I can’t go out with you,” he said. “I can’t be with you like that.”

 _I can’t be with you like that._ Al was open about his sexuality, had been since high school; he’d have no reason to worry about going out with a boy.

He just didn’t want to be seen with _Scorpius._

Disappointment and embarrassment, hot and fiery, washed through Scorpius.

“That’s fine,” he said. “I understand. It’s alright.”

Albus’s expression was concerned, almost pitying. “Scorpius–”

“I’ve got to get home,” Scorpius said, taking a few steps back. He ended up off the footpath and in the grass, the fresh snow crunching under his boots, soaking through his toes and making him shiver. “Lots of studying to do. I’ll see you later.”

Without waiting to hear if Al said anything in reply, Scorpius turned and set off, forging a new path across the untouched snow of the quad like that had been his intention all along.

****

**

JANUARY

**

****

Scorpius had gone to Diagon Alley to do his Christmas shopping. Passing by Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, he’d almost collided with Rose Granger-Weasley and Lily Potter, arms linked and laughing as they left the store. Because there was no way for them to pretend they hadn’t seen each other, they had to catch up – awkward and stilted, because even though Scorpius and Rose had been in the same year at Hogwarts, they had never really been friends. The whole time, as Scorpius gave his two-sentence summary of his university program and nodded along while the girls spoke, the only thought running through his head was _I know about Albus, I know Albus._

Now that he was back at Samwell, seeing Albus again, that thought had changed to _I saw Rose and Lily over Christmas. You didn’t even go home for the holiday._

“Where do you keep your grater?” Albus was searching through Scorpius’s drawers. They were in his kitchen, preparing a pasta dish that the rest of their friends would come over to eat with them later. Ever since Thanksgiving, when Al had found out that Scorpius had a proper flat with a proper kitchen, various friends of theirs had been descending on his place to cook and eat. Scorpius liked it because it meant they didn’t have to go to the dining hall, although it did mean making sure anything magical was hidden away, and he had enough normal Muggle kitchen things.

Like a cheese grater, which up until last week, Scorpius hadn’t owned, as a grating spell was faster and more efficient. He’d bought one when Al announced his intention to make lasagna, but fuck if he knew where he’d put it; thoughtlessly, Scorpius murmured an _Accio_ and the grater flew down the corridor and onto the kitchen table.

When he realised what he’d done and looked over at Al, heart thumping, Al’s expression was unreadable.

“Sorry,” Scorpius said, awkward. The other problem with their group’s decision to spend more time at Scorpius’s flat was that it meant Scorpius spent more time with Albus, something he had been generally avoiding ever since Al turned him down.

“It’s fine.” Al grabbed the grater, pulling back the plastic to remove it from the packaging. “It’s not like I’m uncomfortable around magic, you know.”

Scorpius stirred the pasta, watching as the water rippled above the wide noodles. He’d assumed this topic was sensitive and didn’t want to disturb Albus now that he’d brought it up. “I got the sense you didn’t like it,” he said.

Albus snorted, but the sound wasn’t humorous. “Doesn’t matter if I like it or not,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s not for me.”

“But it must have bothered you, growing up around so much magic when you knew you couldn’t do it.”

Al shrugged. “I guess.” Scorpius turned to lean his hip against the counter, watching Albus. He was grating the parmesan into a bowl, eyes focused down on his task despite its relative simplicity. “It’s not like I spent my whole childhood being envious of magic,” he said. “I thought– for a long time I thought I was a late bloomer. I didn’t believe I wasn’t going to Hogwarts until Rosie got her letter and I didn’t.”

Scorpius remembered the summer he’d been eleven, checking the post every morning, desperate to see a letter embossed with the Hogwarts seal – and the relief and elation the day it had finally arrived. They’d had Scorpius’s favourite dinner that night to celebrate, and had gone to Diagon Alley the very next morning, even though it was crowded with every other Hogwarts first year, and Scorpius’s father loathed crowds.

“I’m sorry,” he said honestly.

Al shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ve gotten used to it,” he said. A long pause, a few forceful grates. “When I went with James to get his school supplies,” Al said, “I assumed I’d be doing the same thing in two years. We were all in denial, I think, me and my parents. Maybe I was more in denial because they were so convinced it was still going to happen.”

 _It,_ Scorpius knew, was that first sign of magic, the reassurance that your child would be able to follow in your footsteps to Hogwarts. Something Al had never experienced.

“You can see Diagon, then?” he asked – a stupid, ignorant question, he berated himself, but Al merely nodded and answered.

“Yeah. I reckon Muggles could too, if they knew it was there. Stuff like that, wizarding places and magical creatures, I think it’s a matter of being aware of it. If you know and accept that magic is real, your brain can accept what it’s seeing, you know? But if you didn’t know anything about the wizarding world you’d be trying to make excuses. It’s not like Hogwarts, where Muggles really can’t see it.”

“I reckon you’re right,” Scorpius said. “Because you figure, Muggle-borns, their parents can go into Diagon Alley. It’s only that most Muggles wouldn’t know what they were looking for, or that it was there at all.”

Al nodded. “Yeah, exactly.”

Scorpius knew this was a delicate topic, and that he should probably drop it while Al was still speaking to him. But he also knew there were Squibs who had drops of magic, a miniscule amount – enough that you knew their parents were wizarding, but not enough to work a wand or cast a spell. And now that Albus was finally talking, Scorpius found he wanted to know everything – although feeling that way about Al was certainly nothing new.

“Have you ever had any magic?” Scorpius asked with hesitation.

Al put down the grater. Scorpius tensed, but Al only turned to him, expression contemplative.

“Yes and no.”

Scorpius frowned. “What do you mean?”

“There are little things I’m good at. Random stuff that always goes right. I can always find a parking place, no matter how busy it is. I’ve never burned cake or biscuits. If I’m running late, driving somewhere, I won’t hit a single red light.” Al shrugged. “All those things could be magic. But if I’d been born into a Muggle family, I’d call them luck.”

** **

**FEBRUARY**

Despite the fact that Samwell’s campus spread across several acres and included dozens of buildings, not one large castle where the entire student population lived, worked, and ate, Valentine’s Day had never felt so omnipresent. The floating hearts and magicked cupids had never irked Scorpius like the pink and red posters announcing various Valentine’s events that had popped up across campus almost overnight. He’d never been bothered by the singing grams his classmates bought each other, or the romantic menu the house elves trotted out on the fourteenth; but this year he thought if he saw another Valentine’s card or heart-shaped box of chocolates, he was going to go mad.

Scorpius had never before had a Valentine’s Day where there was someone he was interested in, either.

He sighed. Across the library, Al was picking something up from the printer. Even under the harsh Muggle fluorescents, Scorpius thought he was beautiful. His riot of hair was more vertical that day than most, due to the amount of time over the past hour he’d spent fisting it in frustration while he scowled at his philosophy homework. His jeans were riding low on his hips, hands stuffed into hoodie pockets as he frowned at the machine in frustration.

Scorpius sighed again.

Eliza elbowed him. “You’re staring,” she whispered.

Scorpius glared at her. He wasn’t used to having crushes, nor was he used to having the sort of friends who might notice them. He had never told Eliza what had happened between him and Albus before Christmas, but she’d come back from the hols somehow with the inherent knowledge that Scorpius fancied Al.

Eliza was unaffected by his stare. “You weren’t being very subtle,” she told him.

Scorpius huffed. “I know.” He’d been hoping that Eliza wouldn’t call him out on it; it wasn’t like Al was going to notice from the other side of the library, anyway.

Probably.

Scorpius had been trying to let go of his feelings since Al had made it clear he wasn’t interested but had found that to be easier said than done. It was hard to force himself not to want to spend more time with Albus when every time they hung out, he got to know Al better. The reluctant, standoffish boy from the beginning of the year had almost disappeared as Al finally came out of his shell around Scorpius, and Scorpius couldn’t remember ever enjoying conversations as much as he did those with Albus. All he wanted to do was keep having those conversations...possibly while lying naked in his bed.

It wasn’t Scorpius’s fault that Albus was exactly his type.

Getting over his non-platonic feelings for Al would have been easier if it weren’t for the moments when Scorpius said something clever, and Albus got this soft look in his eye, like he wanted to move closer. Scorpius had caught Al’s eyes travelling over his body a few times, too, when he thought Scorpius wasn’t looking.

It made his heart thump, made him hope, no matter how many times he reminded himself that Al had been perfectly clear when he turned Scorpius down.

Eliza nudged his shoulder. “You should ask him out,” she told him.

Scorpius shook his head, looking down at his seminar notes. “No.”

Later, as he sat across from Al in the dining hall, eating his chips and nodding along as Al launched into a detailed story from his class earlier that day, it happened again. Scorpius laughed at something Al had said, and Al paused in his monologue, his eyes going soft and his mouth curling into a smile as he regarded Scorpius.

“You have a nice laugh,” he said, the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks.

Scorpius’s face flamed. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” he told Al.

Al’s brow quirked. “Why– what do you mean?”

Scorpius couldn’t meet his eyes. “It makes everything harder,” he said. “It feels like you’re flirting with me.”

“Would it be so terrible if I was?” Al twisted his napkin between his fingers as Scorpius’s heart began to beat in double time.

“I thought you didn’t want to,” Scorpius said. “Before Christmas hols, when I asked, you said, I mean– you said you didn’t see me like that.”

Al frowned. “I know. The thing is…” he sighed. “You’re a wizard.”

This wasn’t new information to Scorpius, obviously, but he kept his mouth shut, waiting for Albus to make his point.

“I never planned on being with someone magical,” Al said. “I didn’t want it to continue to be part of my life. There’s a reason I did high school and uni in the U.S.” His shoulders were tight, hunched. “I always figured if I was dating someone seriously, it would be a Muggle.”

“Oh.”

There was nothing Scorpius could say to that. Much as he was enjoying his dual degree program, living more immersed in the Muggle world and making Muggle friends, magic was part of his lifeblood. He would no sooner give it up than he would give up receiving letters from his father, or his favourite type of tea.

“You’re not a Muggle,” Al said. “But I really like you.”

Scorpius’s breath caught in his throat. “You already know I like you too,” he said, awkward, flushing.

Al nodded. “I know.”

“I haven’t stopped liking you. I wasn’t able to.”

Al blushed. “Me neither.”

“So...what does that mean?”

Al twisted his thumbs together, the nervous gesture now a familiar one to Scorpius. “I guess that means...we can give it a try anyways?”

** **

**MARCH**

Al was lying in Scorpius’s bed, gloriously nude. He hadn’t gotten up since Scorpius had finished fucking him, propping himself on one hand to watch Scorpius cross the room and dig through their discarded clothing for his wand. When he finally found it, and cast a _Scourgify_ over both of them without asking first. He’d expected protest or a snarky comment, but his boyfriend only smiled.

“I guess there are some advantages to magic after all,” he said.

Scorpius smiled. “Maybe.” He climbed onto the bed, slipping under the sheet that Al was still lying on top of. It was a relief that Al was still sexed-out enough that he wasn’t upset by Scorpius’s use of magic – the only ongoing point of contention in their new relationship.

Currently, Scorpius was dealing with this by limiting his magic use around Al, but it was hard to remember sometimes, when casting spells was so natural to him and he felt so comfortable around Al.

“I guess spells made boarding school hook-ups a lot easier to get away with,” Al said. “James used to make it sound like his roommates would be full-on fucking behind a _Silencio._ ”

Scorpius laughed. “I guess. I didn’t really have any boarding school hook-ups,” he admitted. “And only one of the boys in my dorm had a serious enough girlfriend that they hooked up other times besides after parties.” That had been a common enough occurrence among the other Ravenclaw boys, although Scorpius had never partaken in such activities. He’d had a relationship that lasted half the spring semester, his first year out of Hogwarts, but he’d never felt as strongly about that ex as he did about Al.

“My roommate was always locking me out of our dorm to have sex,” Al admitted. “It made me so mad that I started locking him out whenever I could in retaliation. But I didn’t have anyone I was actually hooking up with, so I would take a really long time wanking and then get some homework done.”

Scorpius laughed. “You couldn’t have just talked to him about it?”

Al shrugged. “I preferred the passive-aggressive route, I guess. We didn’t run in the same crowds at all. I don’t think trying to talk to him would have done any good.”

“I can understand that,” Scorpius said. Although the memories grew more distant by the week, Scorpius could still acutely remember the loneliness of his years at Hogwarts, always having people but never having _his_ people. It almost embarrassed him to admit it to Al, but in the early spring sun, Al relaxed and comfortable in Scorpius’s navy blue sheets, it felt safe.

“I didn’t have many friends at Hogwarts.”

Al furrowed his brow. “Really?”

Scorpius shrugged. “Not close ones. Not a best friend or a group, like you and Eliza and Tanya. I played with my dad’s friends’ kids growing up, but they all ended up in a different house from me at Hogwarts. I did things with my housemates, but they all thought I was a little weird. I did well in my classes and had people to talk to, but I didn’t really have a thing outside of that.”

Al reached out his free hand to trace along Scorpius’s arms. “Sounds like it was lonely.”

“A bit.” Scorpius smiled. “The thing about Hogwarts is, it’s like university in that you make most of your friends the first month or so and stick with them. But when you’re an awkward eleven-year-old who’s never spent much time around kids your own age, by the time everyone else has found their best friends, you’re just starting to get comfortable.” He laughed, a little forced. “And that doesn’t bode well for the next six and a half years.”

“I went to Muggle school until I was fourteen, and four years of high school here,” Al said. “And I didn’t really feel like I had a group until last year. It might be more universal than you think.”

“Maybe.” Scorpius shrugged. “Either way, I’m really glad that Eliza sat down next to me in that Anthropology class or I may not have made any friends here either.”

Al lay down, pillowing his head on his bent arm and looking at Scorpius through a half-smooshed face. “As much as her insistence on being friends with you frustrated me at first,” he said, “I am really, really glad too.”

** **

**APRIL**

Summer plans were being made, and Al was insisting on staying in Massachusetts again.

“They’ll hire me for the same job I did last summer,” he said. “It’s easy enough, and they pay well.”

“I don’t want to be away from you for three months,” Scorpius said.

Al shrugged. “I’m not going to England, Scorpius.”

“Not for the whole summer,” Scorpius bargained. “We could plan a few visits! You don’t even have to worry about the plane, you can take an international Portkey– you _can_ take a Portkey, right?”

Al glowered. “Technically, yes,” he said, “but it’s a whole process, and I have to fill out a ton of paperwork because I don’t have a wand they can track and I’m not a minor. The Ministry for Magic is, surprise of surprises, not very well equipped to deal with Squibs.” Al sighed. “There’s a reason I don’t go home a lot, and it’s because it’s a huge pain to do so, not just because of my massive magical family and my father bring fucking famous, but because it requires crossing an ocean and it’s not an easy trip to make, alright?”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have decided to go to school on another fucking continent!” Scorpius clenched his fists in frustration.

“Maybe it didn’t matter how difficult it was to get to England, because I didn’t want to go back!” Al said. “It wasn’t exactly in my plans to start dating Scorpius bloody Malfoy!”

Scorpius stepped back, falling into the desk chair. They were in Al’s room in the suite he shared with Eliza and Tanya, who were currently out at a study session – the reason they were arguing about wizarding matters at full volume. Even so, Scorpius itched to put up a _Silencio,_ but he knew Al wouldn’t let him.

“I didn’t realise that was how you felt,” he said, feeling small. “I didn’t realise dating me was such an inconvenience. I was thinking about how I was going to _miss you,_ being on opposite sides of the Atlantic for the whole summer.”

“Scorpius, that’s not…” Al sighed, dropping onto his bed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?” Scorpius snapped.

“I didn’t mean you,” Al said, “so specifically, like that. I meant...I didn’t expect to be with a wizard. I thought I’d graduate and get a job here in the states, and end up with a Muggle and not have to worry about magic anymore. Maybe I’d tell him the truth, or maybe he’d think my parents were eccentrics and we’d spend every holiday with his family because England was too far to travel.” Al tightened his fingers around his knees, pulling the denim tight. “That’s what I wanted – to not have to think about magic anymore. England and my family make me think about magic. But then you came along, and…it’s not that I’m upset to have fallen in love with you, Scorpius. But you don’t really fit into the plan of having nothing more to do with magic.”

Scorpius’s heart beat double-time in his chest, full with the weight of what Al had said.

But at the same time…

“Magic is a part of me,” he said. “I come with magic. I’m getting a dual degree, my career is going to have a lot to do with non-magical things – living with Muggles, and researching – but I’m never going to stop using magic. I like it, it’s – it’s been a part of me, all my life. I can’t give it up just because it makes you uncomfortable.” The words were coming out in a rush now, words Scorpius wished he wasn’t saying. “I know it’s difficult for you, I understand that, but it isn’t something about me that’s going to go away.”

“I know that,” Al said. “I wouldn’t want it to.”

Scorpius looked at Al. Superficially, it was true he resembled his family – his famous father, plastered across all of Scorpius’s textbooks, was there in his wild curls and sharp green eyes. James was there in the angle of his nose, Lily in the stubborn set of his jaw. But all of those similarities, which at first had seemed so derivative – Al had Harry Potter’s eyes, had James Potter’s hair, he’d thought those first few months – now seemed wholly original. They were Al’s eyes and always had been; that they came genetically from Harry was irrelevant. And Al’s hair may have been similar to James’s, but it wasn’t the same, not really; Al’s hair was messy from his hands carding through it when he studied, stuffed under knit hats in the winter only to escape with even more vehemence when Al came inside. James’s hair was wind-mussed from flying – _anyone’s_ hair could be wind-mussed from flying.

“I’m going to miss you,” he said simply, “and it seems silly and unfair that you’re from where I’m from, and we can travel between Europe and North America instantaneously, yet I’m not going to see you for three months.”

Al frowned. “You could come visit me,” he said. “I don’t want to go that long without seeing you either.”

“I will,” Scorpius promised. “But Al…”

He bit his lip. “I know.”

** **

**MAY**

In the end, they took a plane.

Scorpius had tried to argue. “But Portkeys are so much more convenient,” he said. “And safer.”

Al gave him a look like he’d suggested he throw his laptop into a fire. “Speak for yourself,” he said. “I could live without the headache from the International Portkey Office. And I want it to be a surprise for my parents; travelling the Muggle way is the only way to ensure that happens.”

And in the end, Scorpius gave in, because he was already mystified that he’d convinced Al to travel home for the summer anyway.

Not to stay with his family, or at the Manor, either; Scorpius had offered, but Al told him that he’d “heard enough horror stories about Malfoy Manor to last me a lifetime, thanks.” One of Al’s professors had arranged a summer research position for him in Oxford, student housing provided. 

Scorpius wasn’t complaining. He would happily spend every weekend he had off from his own research project in Al’s twin sized bed, knowing that the alternative would have been a five-hour time difference and failed attempts to use FaceTime anywhere in Wilshire. Al had already told Lily he was spending the summer in England – “She seemed the most likely to not freak out.” – and had even agreed to have dinner with Scorpius’s father, provided the restaurant was thoroughly, _thoroughly_ Muggle.

He had a lot to be grateful for, really. Scorpius’s first year of American, Muggle uni – he couldn’t get used to calling it college – had turned out far better than he’d hoped.

He still could have done without getting on an actual airplane.

“It’s so _big,_ ” he said, leaning over to whisper into Al’s ear. He didn’t have to lean far; though the size of the airplane was startling when he reflected that it would soon be _hurtling through the air,_ it seemed very small when he thought about the number of other people who were sharing this space. He was glad to have Al pressed against him on one side, and was happy to lean into his boyfriend to avoid too much physical contact with the stranger who was also sitting next to him.

“Not all airplanes are this large,” Al explained under his breath. “The ones for longer trips like this are bigger.”

Scorpius didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse. At least Al had let him shrink their luggage so they didn’t have to deal with baggage limitations, he reflected, watching a middle-aged man shove his carry-on into the overhead bin.

He watched, with horrified fascination, as a woman across the aisle took out a wet wipe and proceeded to clean every surface around her, then cast a subtle _Scourgify_ at his own tray table, glad that the noise of the engines covered the incantation. Meanwhile Al, beside him, was playing with his TV screen.

“Do you want to watch something together?” he asked, leaning his shoulder into Scorpius’s. “They have that new Star Wars movie Eliza said was good.”

“Sure,” Scorpius said. Around them, everyone had taken their seats, and the flight attendants were bustling up and down the aisles, carrying strange plasticy contraptions.

“We can start it after the safety presentation,” Al said.

“Safety presentation?” Scorpius was embarrassed at the way his voice squeaked.

“Hey.” Al squeezed his hand. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Right, of course it is,” Scorpius said. He wished he knew more about Muggle physics so he would feel more comfortable about the fact that the aircraft – presumably mostly metal – was about to somehow launch into the sky.

“It is,” Al repeated. “And I want you to know, I really appreciate you flying home with me. I’m nervous about going back, but not having to take a Portkey makes me...less nervous.”

Scorpius met Al’s eyes – even though he had to contort his neck in a weird way to do so – and smiled. “I appreciate you going out on a limb for me,” he said.

Al gave him a questioning look.

“Coming back to England at all,” Scorpius explained. “I know it wasn’t in your plans.”

“No,” Al admitted. “You weren’t in my plans, Scorpius Malfoy. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He snuggled against Scorpius’s shoulder, pulling a bag of M&M’s out of his hoodie pocket, along with a pair of earbuds. “So. Star Wars?”

Scorpius smiled, turning his face so his nose brushed Al’s curls. They smelled like Scorpius’s shampoo. “That sounds perfect."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are <3


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